


You Are What You Eat

by arieolia



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Hide centric, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse, but ghouls still exist, hidekane
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 05:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4047454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arieolia/pseuds/arieolia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hide thought the zombie apocalypse would keep his mind focused on his own life.  But ghouls still decide to make them his problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are What You Eat

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first story on AO3, hopefully won't be my last. I've had this zombie!AU stuck in my head for a while, and a tumblr prompt I saw a while ago didn't help ヽ(´□｀。)ﾉ tumblr why
> 
> Anyway, this story should only be a few chapters long, and make sure you read the end note!
> 
> Enjoy! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

If this were a prompt, it would probably be like: ' **you say you're ghoul, but you like a cutie to me and you're better company than zombies anyway** '

* * *

 

Two to the left.

None to the right.

It was pretty obvious which route he would take.  There were some shops down where the two zombies were, possibly with some food, but it wasn’t as if he could carry much more and he didn’t really need too much anyway.  

And there was no point in trying to get rid of the zombies.  They would decay eventually: he was here to survive, not be some dramatic hero, jumping in and killing every zombie in sight.

Hide stepped back, checked over his supplies (backpack - check, knives - check, gun - check) and kneeled down and pulled his laces tighter.  He didn’t need a repeat from last time (he shivered at the thought).

Once he’d done, he hopped up, shifted his cap on his head to keep the sun out of his eyes and rolled his shoulders.  It wasn’t going to help him if he got stitches.

His trainers were tight around his toes, and he really needed to get new ones, but he took a step out, his eyes on the zombies behind, and silently took the route to the right.

Tokyo, he knew, was possibly the least safest place to be in.  This was were the epidemic had struck the hardest - it had the densest population and that left no wonder as to how the epidemic had spread so quickly.

No matter where Hide went, there would be zombies.  There was no safe zone in that city.

Hide briefly remembered hearing the CCG mentioning a sudden rise of ghouls, and knew that they had mixed something up: those weren’t ghouls, they were dead people walking.  Of course, it wasn’t as if he expected them to know.  Ghouls were real.  Zombies, on the other hand, were a bit of a stretch to believe in.  From what he’d heard from some survivors he’d spoken to a long time ago, there still CCG members who thought zombies were insane ghouls - even after the apocalypse had begun.

Though, if Hide’s theories and speculations on the history behind the ‘zombies’, then those CCG members may have been half-right.

Idly, he wondered how many zombies he’d brought down were actually ghouls.  If maybe they could even eat zombie flesh.  They weren’t human, and Hide once read they had better immune systems, so did that mean they couldn’t get infected?

He shrugged his thoughts off.  Now was not the time to be wondering about ghouls, not when he was running through freaking Tokyo in the middle of the apocalypse.

He fingered the grip of the knife in his belt as he ducked beneath a window and crawled over to the other side.  There, he stopped and considered his actions.

Down the street no zombies could be seen.  That didn’t, however, account for all the alleys and buildings: for all he knew, there was a runner out there and he just couldn’t hear them.

Quickly, he turned his head to check the left route.  It would have been the better route: no alleys to bypass and less windows to crouch beneath.  But there were zombies that way, ruining everything as always. If there was one zombie, there was one zombie.  But if there were two, there was a chance of a horde.

It was as he decided that he could only keep going the same way when he heard it.

Moaning, groaning, low whispers from the distance - far enough away to leave him with around ten or so minutes, depending on the last time they’d eaten (which, from the sound of it, was some time ago).

‘ _Shit,_ ’ he thought before he controlled himself, ‘ _shit shit shit shit I am going to die._ ’

For a moment Hide wondered if maybe his life was just a movie people were watching in the cinema, and that soon something big would happen and he’d meet the love of his life and suddenly it’d turn out there’s a cure for the disease and there’s some awesome safe zone out there where he’d never have to worry about running through a deserted Tokyo ever again.

He thought ‘ _as if_ ’ and ‘ _shit_ ’ at the same time.

His hand had long ago gripped onto his knife, his back pressed against the brick wall with his legs bent beneath him.  He allowed himself a few seconds to breathe in and out, to calm down.  He’d faced hordes several times before.  You didn’t survive as long as Hide and not bump into at least one.  What made this so different?  

If anything, it would be easier.  They were pretty far away, if his ears heard right, and if he climbed a roof, he could wait it out until the horde disappeared and looked for other people to eat, maybe he wouldn’t even see them, maybe he wouldn’t see the

_blood dripping off of their faces, pale skin, hollow cheeks, ripped clothes, putrid smell, yellow eyes_

_bad thoughts bad thoughts bad thoughts_

Hide desperately wanted to press his eyes shut and think back to his mum and dad and little sister and his clubs, but the first thing he learned was that closing your eyes outside in the middle of the apocalypse was not a good idea.  Instead, he let his knuckles go white as he held onto his knife, banishing away memories of previous hordes.

He got up, retracing his thoughts.  ‘ _Right, if I climb up a building, I could get around up there, away from the zombies, like the parkour beast I am._ ’  He tried to stay positive and add humour in most thoughts, even if no one but he would hear them.  ‘ _Maybe even stick around for the day.  Haven’t slept on a roof in a while._ ’

Somewhat more positive, Hide looked up and saw the buildings were detached from each other for a good few feet.  While he was sure he could jump that far, he didn’t want to risk it.  Practice wasn’t something he got much time for; most of the things he did were of the  spur-of-the-moment-hope-for-the-best variety and jumping four feet across to another building at a height of fifty feet* was a thing that he really needed to practice beforehand.

‘Well, I guess I’m staying the night,’ he thought, shifting himself to look down the alley.  There were some dumpsters lined up at the sides, which would help, since he was sure he’d need it to hoist himself onto the metal staircase that was built against the wall of the building.  They started rather high up, but they went right up to the top, leading to the roof.

Silently, Hide crept and checked the alleyway, feeling relieved after not finding any zombies around.  Unfortunately, the scent of blood and rotting flesh - you couldn’t really escape that, especially not in the summer - lingered along with a waft of rotting food.  There wasn’t anything he could do to get rid of with the smell: it probably would help cover up his scent, anyway.

It took barely a few seconds to hoist himself onto the lid of the dumpster, desperately hoping the lid wouldn’t break beneath him, because the smell might get some zombies off of his track, but he wasn’t sure if he could handle it himself.  It creaked under his weight and Hide was tempted to jump off then and there if it hadn’t been for the fact that the zombie noises were slowly getting louder.

The metal rails were just barely in his reach.  Barely, but not completely out.  He shrugged his backpack off and stuffed his cap into it, swinging the bag behind the safety bars of the staircase before reaching up, hooking his fingers through the square gaps, and heaving himself up and over the rails.

When he regained balance, he let paused and let himself bathe in the sudden feeling of safety around him.  Something about being high up, with the knowledge that even if some zombies could run, none of them could climb made him feel safe.  Not safe in a ‘oh phew nothing can hurt me now’ kind of way, but in a ‘oh phew now there’s less to worry about’ kind of way.

It wasn’t long until the familiar feeling of his backpack’s straps around his shoulders returned, and as it did Hide didn’t wait to start walking up the stairs.

He winced.  Even if the blond tread carefully and pressed his foot down softly, the metal stairs made annoyingly loud clangs, the sound echoing in the alley and, he was sure, into the ears of the horde (which was rapidly growing closer, according to his senses).  From time to time, the staircase would creak worryingly and Hide would tense in fear.

Thankfully, it seemed a year of little maintenance had not effected it much, as the staircase did not collapse as Hide almost expected it too.

The apprehension seeped out of him the further up he went.  Hide neared the top and felt his breathing calm and his worries disappear for a moment, despite the fact that the horde was definitely down the road.

The teen was sure it wouldn’t matter.  Two more flights and he’d be up on the roof.  There, he would pull out the blanket in his backpack, fold it up and use it as a pillow as he often did.  If he felt hungry - which he did - he would have a bite to eat: cold baked beans, most likely, and whatever else he had managed to scrounge up the last time he’d found a house with a fridge.

If possible, he’d read that book he’d found in some cafe (where he’d also found those expensive looking coffee beans - he’d taken a whole jar, if only because they smelled nice - although, now that he thought about it, it would be a good trade…).  It had been the only one there in good condition, and even in the apocalypse, Hide found himself growing increasingly more and more bored.  So, he’d picked it up in a rush and hoped it was at least a little interesting.

Something tickled at his nose: a familiar scent.  Something he’d grown used to, found normal and natural after months of injuries and and cuts and bites. ‘Familiar’ doesn’t necessarily mean comforting, however.  This scent was anything but.

This was the smell that came off of open wounds and rotting bodies, this was the scent that lingered in hospitals and loomed after tragic accidents. This was the scent well described as metallic.

Blood.

The blonde didn’t shift or jump or stop, instead continuing on up the stairs, even as a hint of worry burned in his chest.  Blood never meant good things, but it didn’t mean harmful or dangerous things were nearby.  For all he knew, there was someone injured up there.  Or there were dead zombies.  Maybe rotting people.

As a precaution, however, Hide slid his hand past his away and pulled his loaded gun out.

He pulled back the safety** as he neared the top.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *sorry I have no clue how large a foot is (that's probably not good at all), I use metric not imperial.  
> **I also know nothing about guns. Someone tell me what the 'safety' is really called?
> 
> Please give me advice to further improve my writing, comment on my work, or even just speculate on plot. Please bear in mind that I use/speak/type in British English, so some spelling mistakes may be due to the differences between American English and it's British comparison. I am only thirteen as well (please, please, please do not treat me as 'below you' because of that).


End file.
